Shelter
by darlingwendy
Summary: "He could hear her sharp intake of breath, the hurt she felt just by hearing her brother's name evident in the tense atmosphere around them. He could see her fingers curling into a fist, wondering what was running through her mind." Damon/Rebekah.


**(a/n): Set right after 3x22, Debekah one-shot. I loved their scene together in this episode. I feel as though they could have so much potential if given the chance. The entire finale as a whole...no words. Title comes from "Shelter" by Birdy. **

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**Shelter**

His fingers tapped restlessly against the smooth, dark wood of the counter before him. Very few people remained left at the local bar, the rare passerby drifting in and out before Damon could take note of the fact that he wasn't alone. It was well into the night, he knew, but he couldn't tell you what time. He was a shell, feeling more out of place than he had ever before. An aching buzz enveloped him in that moment, gripping into his cold skin and suffocating his every nerve and thought. The prickle of pain clung to the very last shreds of his sanity, the heavy weight of loss washing over him all over again. _You can turn it off_, a voice murmured in his mind, near tauntingly. Another countered that it didn't work like that. To turn it off would be to freeze yourself from the inside out, numb every last bit of you until you could no longer feel at all. It never lasted very long and Damon was very much aware of that. Humanity, _his_ humanity, had funny a way of creeping up on him when he very much didn't want it. There was no going back, he knew all too well. Now that he could feel and truly feel it all...he couldn't take it back. Life would never have an erase button for Damon Salvatore. He could never forget.

He refused to think of Alaric. To think of the fact that his friend - his _only_ friend, at that - was now truly dead. The man he had allowed himself to open up to, more so than most, was gone. Isolation was something Damon was very much used to. It was something he had grown accustomed to as the decades passed. He had spent more than a century entirely on his own, living inside of the shell that he was, lost and broken from yet another loss in his long and weary life. The burden of eternity was one that he once thought he was prepared to face. To live it _alone_...it was something he had never wanted, something he could never allow himself to voice out loud.

Damon fiddled with the glass before him, watching the amber liquid swirl around in a small, golden whirlpool. He contemplated what was ahead for them now. Klaus was now - finally - dead. But how wasn't he? How wasn't Stefan? Klaus had lied to them, he concluded, the alcohol putting a halt to his spinning mind. He didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to exist. Just the thought of Elena being dead - he couldn't allow himself to ponder over it anymore. She was alive. That was all that mattered. She may not have chosen him, chosen the life she has to live now...but she was alive.

"Damon," a soft, feminine voice spoke. He redirected his pale eyes, turning his head to see the familiar blonde vampire slide into the seat next to him. "Drowning yourself in your sorrows then?" Rebekah asked, a hollow quality to her tone as she continued. "How very much like yourself, Salvatore."

She didn't fool him. Damon could see the pain written clearly on her face, her trembling composure threatening to slip at any given moment. He had lost a friend, lost the girl he loved, but she had lost her brother. And for that, Damon couldn't find it in himself to be angry for what she had done for Elena to end up this way. He had no energy left to be angry at all.

"Shouldn't you be doing the same," he drawled, sighing deeply as he watched her interlace her fingers together.

"No," she shook her head, taking the glass from him and downing its contents. "I don't want to forget. I can't forget."

"None of us can," he said nonchalantly. "Tonight's been fan-fucking-tastic, hasn't it? Never a dull moment in the hellhole that is Mystic Falls..."

"Why do you stay then, if it's such a hellhole?" she asked, her curious eyes carefully placed on his face, watching for the change in his expressions. "I would agree. How you all are still alive is beyond me. Foolish, really, is what you all are for not scattering sooner. Matt Donovan had the right idea."

"You're rather opinionated for staying yourself," Damon returned, rolling his eyes slightly as he turned away. "Why on earth would I want to leave? Such an entertaining town, Mystic is. A fresh death every few fucking days, nonstop, continuous shit that no one asked for..." He gritted his teeth, attempting to hold himself back from saying more.

Her blue eyes continued to pierce him until he was forced to look back, frowning slightly as he said, honestly this time, "I have nowhere else to go."

She shook her head, speaking faintly, "I didn't either. Until - " her voice broke off, her pointed face turning away as she gulped. "My family is all that I have."

"Stefan's all I've got," he murmured absently, a prickle of annoyance snaking into his system. "Why are you here, Rebekah?"

"Did I not just answer this - " she began, irritation in her voice before he cut her off.

"No, here as in why are you at the Grill at this hour?" He raked his fingers through his ebony hair, raising an eyebrow.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said bitingly, fiddling with the silver bracelets on her wrist.

"You're not answering my question," he said, his jaw tightening slightly. "Haven't you done enough tonight, Barbie Klaus?"

He could hear her sharp intake of breath, the hurt she felt just by hearing her brother's name evident in the tense atmosphere around them. He could see her fingers curling into a fist, wondering what was running through her mind. It was as if he could taste the aftermath of death on his tongue.

"He was my _brother_, Damon," she ground out, standing to her feet. "I had every right. It was my duty as his sister to avenge his death in the best way possible; killing the one who dared to even touch him. You as well as I know that I don't care whatsoever for the outcome of your beloved Elena."

He refused to react, chewing on the insides of his mouth before saying coldly, "Are you done?"

Her expression softened fractionally, her eyebrows furrowing together. "What would you have done if it was Stefan? You know that you would have been absolutely lethal had it been your own brother, Damon. Family is family, there is no other way around it."

"Why are you here, Rebekah?" he repeated, his voice growing slightly louder. A man in the far left corner of the bar turned to look at them, slightly alarmed by the sound.

She sighed, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, taking a step backward. "I came to thank you."

Thank him? "What do you mean?" he asked, taken aback and somewhat bewildered by her words. "I've done nothing for you."

"Had you not forced me back and pushed me to leave, I would have stayed until I was just as lifeless as he is now," Rebekah replied, clearing her throat as her voice strengthened slightly. "I would have died with him. There is no life without the brother you've sworn to stand by for eternity."

He remained silent, surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation. He should hate her as Stefan did, he should push past her and walk away that very second. Rebekah meant nothing to him. Her words should mean nothing to him.

"You didn't have to save me," she continued, sighing slightly as she slowly turned her lithe frame towards the door. "But you did. And as much as I dislike you, and as much as I owe you nothing and you owe me just the same...I feel obliged nonetheless. Thank you."

He watched her step away from him, every attachment he had associated with Rebekah falling away in that moment. He pushed aside who she was related to, what his own brother had done to her family and what had happened to Elena to see the blonde girl for who she was. It dawned on him that they were both pawns in the twisted game of fate.

Despite his aggravation with her, they were more alike than he could have thought.

Just as her hands pushed open the door, a gust of wind causing her white-blonde hair to fly about her pale face, Damon called, "Hey, Rebekah!"

She looked back, her blue irises meeting his.

"You're welcome."

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**(a/n): Liked it? Hated it? Leave a review! :)**


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